


Exile

by AzulaLavellan



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dragon Age Character in Middle Earth, Dragon Age Lore, Elvhen Pantheon, Shapeshifting, Tags will change as I write, Tenth Walker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-20 03:32:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14886810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzulaLavellan/pseuds/AzulaLavellan
Summary: Aragorn comes across a strange wolf on his way to meet Gandalf about a hobbit. What he doesn't know is this wolf will change the course of the history of Arda.





	1. Prologue: With a Heavy Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I will try to follow the story of Lord of the Rings fairly closely, at least in the beginning. As such I am following the storyline of the books with elements from the movies. 
> 
> For a little bit of background on Variel and the Dragon Age elements, this work is a continuation of the Kendra | Variel MGIT storyline that i am still working on. As such the headcannon used there is maintained here.
> 
> Per Dragon Age cannon there are nine Evanuris who are no different from ancient elvhen except that they were generals during a war thousands of years prior to the events of Dragon Age that became revered as royalty then were deified. 
> 
> For this headcannon, there are ten Evanuirs. The original five of whom made a deal with ancient divine entities to win a war, thus becoming royalty. Two were spirits who became flesh and were ascended when one married one the original five. One was ascended when he proved himself worthy, and the final two were ascended when they married two existing Evanuris. Though they were generals who became kings than gods, they always had a spark of the divine in them setting them apart from their fellow elvhen.
> 
> Notes, translations, and other things will be in at the bottom of each chapter :) <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All things in this world are finite.  
> What one man gains, another has lost.  
> Those who steal from their brothers and sisters  
> Do harm to their livelihood and to their peace of mind.  
> Our Maker sees this with a heavy heart.  
> -Transfigurations: 1:5

“Take away his spouse” The God of Death advised.

“Yes, removed the one who protects him, you are wise my son.” The God of Vengeance answered.

“I will be by your side.”

“You will not.” The words were cold as ice, allowing no doubt as to his intent. " You still must atone for your deeds against the All-Mother."

“Father please…!” But his pleas fell on deaf ears.

The All-Mother would be displeased, but she would understand. He was sure of it. Remove the daughter of her adoption, weaken the Trickster. Indeed, taking away his spouse, his soul-mate, his bonded, would be punishment for what the God of Rebellion did to his kin. For attempting to lock the Gods away for eternity behind a Veil. For locking him behind the Veil.

It was with considerable effort that she was thrown through the mirror. The God of Rebellion and Goddess of Protection had only grown in power, and their combined strength was greater than his. But it was done. Her protection removed, leaving the Trickster vulnerable, and the Trickster fought desperately to get passed the God of Vengeance and rescue the woman he loved. A love he would exploit. It was with sick joy that he shattered the mirror in the Trickster’s face. He took sick pleasure as the God of Rebellion cried out in despair of his wife’s separation, the pain of the distance. For he sent her far.

What he didn't expect was their daughters, the seven children of the Trickster and the Protector, fully grown and of their majority, as powerful as any of the gods. He turned to see their seven angry faces standing with their father.

The Goddess of Protection turned on her heel in the snowy ruins, intent to rush back to her husband’s side, but the mirror shattered as she neared it. Her agonizing scream turned into a wail of despair as she took her wolf form. The snow of the storm didn’t bother her, even if it was building up on her 7-meter frame. Not that it lasted. Her six purple eyes blazed and the snow on and around her melted at her fury. Realizing the futility of her actions to return, her tears of agony flowed from her eyes and froze on the ground beneath her as she shrunk.


	2. I Shall Endure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,  
> I shall embrace the Light. I shall weather the storm.  
> I shall endure.  
> What you have created, no one can tear asunder.  
> -Trials 1:10

Aragorn relaxed and lit his pipe, leaning back into the tree he was sitting against. His eyes fluttered shut as the cool breeze gently blew around him and rustled the leaves of the trees about the copse. The gentle lapping of the water on the shores of Lake Evendum drifted from his left, and the sounds of the night creatures waking came to his ears as dusk settled. He puffed on his pipe, letting the blue smoke waft from his lips. The stars twinkled out as the sun set behind the Misty Mountains.

A strange sense of being watched crept over the Ranger, and his eyes snapped open to gaze about his surroundings. He sensed no hint that anyone was around. The birds and insects still sang their songs and the night was still darkening. He gazed into the crackling fire, watching memories fly by. Dwelling on what the strange future unfolding could hold.

The sense of being watched came again, and he glanced up. A grey shadow on his right caught his attention and he began moving his hand slowly to his sword laying nearby.

On the edge of the camp stood a massive white wolf. Probably the largest the Ranger had ever seen of its breed, he estimated it to be over fourteen hands at the shoulder. It sat statuesque, its tail wrapped around its feet and an unsettling light in its eyes. Aragorn met its gaze and watched, waiting, feeling like something was telling him to be calm and refrain from hastiness. As he watched the unmoving wolf, he realized that its species hails from far to the north. It must be lost, and therefor dangerous. It was many minutes before either man or wolf moved. Aragorn did not take his eyes from the beast, and it seemed to be curious observing the man. The ranger could see the intelligence behind its eyes and that only raised more unsettling questions. The command to wait and be patient brought even more.

Finally, the wolf moved, calmly turning its back on the man and walking into the night. As if a weight was lifted from his shoulders, Aragorn released a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. The sense of being watched never left.

The next morning, he woke before dawn and quickly pulled his things together, munching on salted venison and marching his way south. He made a good pace, trying to shake whatever was following him. but that nagging feeling of eyes on the back of his neck just wouldn’t leave.

At the close of the day he had caught a few hares and some fish, and sat to cook it, puffing his pipe as dusk settled around him. He relaxed and ignored the watchfulness he felt as the gentle breeze blew through the canopy and the night creatures woke. His gaze was on his fire and every few minutes he would check his food. Something again caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. This time he was ready, laying his naked sword on his lap as he met the gaze of the white wolf.

Even with his defensive posture the wolf didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Just sat regarding him with those eyes that screamed unnatural intelligence. Something in the back of his mind telling him that the wolf means no harm warred with the logic that screamed danger. The war in his mind broke suddenly like a spell being lifted when his food finished cooking, the smell of burning meat brining his attention to the fire. When he looked up the wolf was gone leaving an unsettling feeling in his gut.

Aragorn slept fitfully that night and he woke stiff. He worked through it as every ranger does. Over 80 years in the wilds makes one overlook simple stiffness from roots. As he scattered the ashes of his fire and disguised his campsite, he noticed the prints of the wolf. Obviously, it’s not a phantom but an actual creature. Flesh and blood, skin, teeth, bone, dangerous sinew. He would have to be careful. Vigilant. The prints lead to the river where they mingled with other prints. If Aragorn hadn’t known none were around he would have guessed a company of booted and barefoot people had come to the shore. The telltale laughter, singing, and merriment of elves was lacking. And hobbits rarely, if ever, venture out of their borders much less this far north. And it couldn’t have been men or dwarves as the forest creatures would have fled. The revelation that he was not alone and whoever it was was accepted by the forest unsettled the ranger even more. He didn’t have time to search, though he wanted to. That strange feeling of being watched was still there.

That afternoon he doubled back on his trail, treading carefully and listening to the forest sounds. He concealed himself well, making sure he was down wind of the path he took as well as visually hidden from sight. He waited, and his mind wandered. What could be following him was the most important question. What manner of creature left marks like the ones he saw? What about the wolf? Was the wolf following them as well?

He sat for hours but nothing showed its face. Yet the feeling of eyes on the back of his neck was ever present. He sighed and stood, stretching out the ache from muscles that hadn’t moved since early morning. He absentmindedly placed his hand on the tree next to him and strode from his hiding spot. He looked around the forest and froze.

Not ten meters from him stood the white wolf, regarding him with a flicker of amusement in its eyes and what appeared to be a grin on its face. It met his gaze for several minutes before turning and ducking its head into the undergrowth, disappearing into the forest to the east.

He made camp a few hours later, spreading his bedroll next to the fire and dozing. Part of him regretted not hunting or setting traps but after so many years in the field he didn’t care. What was one day without food? He sighed and sat back into the trunk of another tree, puffing a thin cloud of smoke from his pipe. He dozed, his eyes fluttering shut.

The sudden impact of something on his stomach drove the breath from him and shocked him fully alert. He started and reached for the dagger on his belt, his eyes snapping open and his hands grabbing soft fur of rabbit.

He froze and looked in his lap. Three dead rabbits sat there, and a shadow loomed over him. His eyes snapped up to the white wolf not two feet away. He took in its appearance. He noticed that the female creature had a few flecks of blood near its maw and its sinuous legs and giant paws had mud in the fur. But otherwise her coat was smooth, brilliant white. Magically white, one would think. As it sat its tail wrapped gracefully around its paws. On her chest sat a black circle, the only part of her coat that was not pure white. He met its hazel eyes and his breath caught. They were the size and shape of a humans. And from this distance, the intelligence and amusement dancing in her eyes was as plain as the pointed ears of an elf, the beard of a dwarf, or the curly hair of a hobbit.

When he didn’t move, she knelt and nudged the hares in his lap and huffed in the direction of the fire. Then she laid down on the other side with almost unnatural grace, closing her eyes and relaxing with a soft sigh.

Aragorn just stared for a few more minutes. If it wasn’t for the wolf’s ears twitching he would have thought that she slept. Aragorn moved to prepare the meat and found that the hares had barely bled. Their necks were broken yes but there was very little blood and broken skin. The ranger looked in wonder from the rabbits to the wolf. She didn’t move as he cooked and ate, didn’t even open her eyes. He watched her till he dozed off. When he woke with a start her only movement was to open her eyes, roll them in an oddly human manner, then close them again.

The next morning, she was gone. Though that didn’t last long as she reappeared with a few fish. Apparently, this wolf is trained. He wondered who trained her, and why. The wolf didn’t move as he packed and got ready for his march. It wasn’t until he had actually begun to walk away that she rose gracefully and walked at his side, confidently walking with him, occasionally sniffing the ground or the air.

When he stopped to make camp, she disappeared again. He almost wondered why the giant wolf followed, and if she would come back. He shrugged and lit his fire. A thunk next to him brought his gaze to the hares that the wolf had brought.  
“Well aren’t you quite the clever one.” He complemented. She looked at him, a strange light in her eyes but nothing else. “Who trained you?” He asked, reaching to rub her behind her ears. Her gaze followed his hand at the corner of her eye, and just as his fingers were about to touch her fur, she turned away, leaving his hand to ghost through where she was just standing. She gracefully laid down and watched him.

He cooked the hares and offered her one, which she ate. Aragorn began undressing to bathe in the chill Brandywine. He glanced at the wolf, wondering again if she would be there when he returned. It was then that he noted the strangest thing. Just as his tunic came off, the wolf looked up, her eyes falling to his chiseled chest and abdomen, and moved up and down his form. A light appearing in her eyes as she slowed her meal. Had the wolf been human, he would have said it was the light of arousal. Her glance popped back to his eyes then fell to the rabbit as she continued eating. The whole visual exchange only lasted seconds and caused him to forget what he was doing as he took in what just happened. She did not look at him again till he had cleaned his clothes and put his leggings and tunic back on.

This is no ordinary wolf.

He put his still drying clothes out and got ready to turn in, tucking himself into his bed roll. He pretended to go to sleep, wondering if anything would happen if she thought him dead to the world. When she saw him turn in, she closed her eyes, her ears occasionally twitching as her breathing slowed to an even pace. Aragorn watched and waited. She rose after about four hours. With a seemingly sad sigh, she turned to the lake, sitting to gaze up at the stars. He lifted himself to his elbows for a minute to watch the wolf before a sudden drowsiness washed over him. He slowly, unwillingly lowered himself back down, and he was asleep before he was flat.

He dreamed of an elf bathing, but unlike the Eldar she had very long, knife like ears that stretched nigh to the back of her head. Her sun kissed skin and long black hair wet with water that glinted in the moonlight that danced in the lazy current.

He woke with a slight headache. The wolf was fast asleep at her spot by the fire. He rubbed his temples, wanting to forget the strange dream and thanking Eru that it was not sexual. He only wanted to think about one woman in his dreams. His desire to keep his thoughts pure for his beloved pushed many of the details of the dream out of his head. It was several minutes before he rose fully and prepared for the day. He didn’t know when the wolf woke for at some point, when he glanced at her she was watching him.

“Are you ready, Ninim?” He asked. She looked at him with her head cocked to one side. “It means snowdrop, I think it is fitting. The White wolf with a tear on her chest.” He smiled at the wolf. When he rose to leave, so did she.

Once again, they made very good time, arriving at the Brandywine Bridge that evening. He camped on the northern side of the Road, unwilling to enter the Old Forest just yet. As with the last few days, Ninim went hunting for him, and all he had to do was lite his fire. She took a few hours before she reappeared dragging a small ram, of all things. He thanked the wolf as he skinned and dressed the animal. She huffed in acknowledgement and laid herself down as she watched.

The road was quiet, but he watched. He knew he shouldn’t linger, being that Gandalf intends on meeting him at Sarn Ford. But, just in case. He got up and walked from the copse and up the ridge that was blocking his campfire from view of the road. He sighed with his pipe, wondering what tidings the Grey Wanderer would bring. His mind went to the capture of the creature Gullum, and what omens that he meant, with his tale of his “precious” being stolen. The presence of orcs and other dark creatures in the Gladden Fields. The ever-growing shadow looming over Mordor and stretching its tendrils across the West. With a sigh he pulled himself from his thoughts and watch of the road, returning to check his cooking ram.

He pulled it from the fire, giving part to Ninim, who seemed to savor the cooked flesh. He took a bit himself, his eyes widening as the savory flavor punctuated his senses and exploded in his mouth. His surprised eyes flitted around the clearing looking for the one that came and seasoned his meal. But it was only him and the wolf, who was ignoring him.

“Ninim, who came by the camp?” Her eyes met his with a curious look for a moment before she turned back to the ram. He continued to glance around suspiciously, looking at the ground closely. The only prints near his camp was just the wolf’s and his, none others. He sat and stared at the ram by the fire for many minutes, wondering if he was beginning to go crazy.

He moved camp very early in the morning, Ninim with him as he plunged into the Old Forest. When they had made camp again Ninim brought food while he tended to cooking the meal. Once again, he turned his back. Ninim was just where he left her, there were no tracks around the camp except him and the wolf’s. Yet the food was pleasantly spiced. He looked hard at the eating wolf, who ignored him.

The next morning, they pair struck out from the Old Forest, skirting its borders. After a day of walking, they reached the southern edge. The next afternoon they would be at Sarn Ford. As he walked, only once did Ninim leave his side, to go into the Old Forest, but she remained in his view under the shade of the trees. They made camp again on the river’s edge. Ninim brought back a few pheasants and a rabbit, which she seemed to prefer. He bathed as the food cooked over their small fire. He did his best to keep an eye on their camp. The wolf refused to look at him, acting weirdly sentient of his state of undress. Despite all his effort to keep an eye on the fire and the food cooking there, when he returned it was once again pleasantly spiced. And once again the only prints where his and Ninim’s. He gave up trying to figure out the enigma and just enjoyed the flavors.

When he crawled into his bedroll, he watched the stars, letting his mind wander to Arwen. He fell asleep among pleasant memories. Yet when he woke, he distinctly remembered the sound of bathing and water gleaming off tan flesh and wet black hair. He rose amid unsure thoughts of what had befallen his mind since he met this wolf. The walk to Sarn Ford was leisurely as he was lost in his thought. Ninim explored within his view, for whatever reason though this time he was not paying attention to her presence. Upon Arriving at Sarn Ford, he selected a camp site concealed from the view of the Road but that his friend would be able to locate with only a hint at the ford itself. Ninim watched him, almost thoughtfully, as he left the sign. Within minutes she was off hunting.

Oddly now he didn’t feel as watched though he felt a watchfulness settle heavily on the land about them. He thought he caught glimpses of the wolf around the camp, almost like she made a circle, then she disappeared from view completely. She came back with hares again. This time he focused on the fire and the cooking, and unlike the last few nights, his food was not seasoned. Something must be waiting till he leaves to mess with him. The answer must lie somewhere. He fell asleep to his unsure thoughts.

That morning he woke and explored the area with Ninim. They fell content to wait for the Grey Wanderer after a few hours, and more than once the wolf sat watching the western shore as if she knew someone was coming. As dusk fell, she came over, nudging the pot of his weskit from his pack. As if telling him to cook a stew. She disappeared to hunt again.  
Hours later she returned, and Aragorn started a stew. Several times he walked to the shores of the river, impatiently waiting for the Wizard to show.

~~~~

Gandalf rode from Hobbiton with all speed. He had told Aragorn to meet him at Sarn Ford half a week before midsummers day. From there we would make for Minas Tirith. He had to know if the hafling's ring was a great ring or just a trinket. His thoughts were heavy, and he desired to take counsel with Curunir before he made any rash decisions. Yet a shadow was still on his mind. Enough so that he didn’t notice an unseen presence growing around him as he approached the southern borders of the Shire.  
And then suddenly it was there. The presence beat down on his mind, pushing away the shadow. it was strange, foreign. The strength it held felt familiar, akin to the strength of the Valar, but the subtle nuances that flowed through its power was unlike anything he had ever felt before. The strangeness caused him to bring his horse to a halt. His sent his gaze to the darkening land around him, silently commanding whatever it was to show itself.

~~~~

Ninim’s movements were sudden, she rose with her hackles raised, though there was no hostility in her eyes, just uncertainty. It still caught Aragorn off guard and he brought his sword to himself. He didn’t know what it was about the wolf, but he had come to trust her. He looked in the direction of her gaze and saw nothing. It was slow for her tenseness to leave. And when she finally sat she kept her gaze fixed on the northwestern shore of the Brandywine.

Aragorn still didn’t settle. It was the most violent movement Ninim had made yet, and it had him on edge. Throughout their travels in the past week, there was nothing that rattled the massive wolf, but now something had. The feeling of being safe and protected came, he knew not from where and he pushed the feeling aside and let logic take over.

~~~~

It was many minutes before Gandalf moved again. As soon as he ordered the being to show itself, he felt the presence grow taut as a bow string before receding. Then his hairs on his arms and neck stood on end as he felt the telltale feeling of the region filling with sympathetic magic. A trick used by the Ainur only as most if not all of both Edain and Eldar are incapable of controlling magic around them that is not of their own power. The last time he felt a place this filled with sympathetic magic, it was when Mandos pronounced the Doom of the Noldor, and it was done as a form of protection, a precaution against the wayward elves that was amplified by Manwe’s power.

He slowly urged his horse forward, remaining alert to his surroundings and prepared his own magic in case he needed to cast. The power only grew, the watchfulness becoming more intense as he moved forward. Yet still nothing showed its face. The oddest thing about this entire situation was that the power didn’t feel evil. Just foreign, watchful, and extremely dangerous.

As he crossed the river he spotted Aragorn’s rune upon a stone and passed in the direction of the Ranger’s camp, not knowing that he tripped a warning glyph that had been traced and concealed on the stone. The sypathetic magic became even more intense. Then Gandalf finally felt the aura that had filled the area, so powerful that he could not tell where its exact location was. But it was certainly near Aragorn’s camp.

He exited the tees to the sight of Aragorn tending a stew and a massive white dire wolf gazing on him.

“Since when do you have a wolf, my friend?” He said gently, trying hard not to betray the uncertainty in his voice.

“Gandalf!” Aragorn rose and greeting the wizard. “This is Ninim, she joined me days ago and hasn’t left. What is wrong, you are tense? What is going on with Frodo?”

“He intends on moving forward with his birthday party, as well as his uncles.” The wizards voice dropped an octave, so only Aragorn could hear. “We are being watched.”

“I felt it too, it has followed me for over a week.” Aragorn replied, handing a bowl of stew to the wizard.

“Then we must speak of other things.” Gandalf took a bite of his meal, raising is eyebrow in surprised appreciation. He raised his voice to a normal volume. “Tell me of this wolf, she is beautiful. This stew is delicious, Aragorn.”

“She is, and intelligent, well trained.” Aragorn nodded. “She has hunted for me since a day when I forwent meals to scout.” Gandalf caught on to the Rangers meaning, he had tried to trap whatever was following him. If he had failed, then whatever it was had a corporeal form or was indeed an Ainur. “Other strange things have occurred since she arrived.”

“Such as?”

“Well, my food kept on becoming spiced when my back was turned, this stew is but one example. And when I examined any markings, it was only mine and Ninim’s. Honestly Gandalf, aside from the interesting occurrences, Ninim is a strange wolf.

At that Gandalf looked at the wolf, who had yet to take her eyes off the men. He saw what appeared to be amusement and intelligence behind her eyes and he pried into her mind. An easy feat as animals, even trained predators, lack the sentience to guard themselves. Maybe he could learn where she was trained, and by whom, and where she came from.

His eyebrows shot up in extreme surprise as the wolf rose to a sitting position, its eyes hard, the amusement gone. He ran into a wall, more powerful than any of the Wise, even Galadriel and Círdan themselves, and certainly far out of the capabilities of a wolf. The wall was impregnable and whatever he did, however much power he put into his gaze the wall didn’t break. It was then he heard it.

“Evanuris? Eluvien?” rang in his head, memories brought forward at a rapid pace as the creature returned his favor and delved into his own mind. He put up defenses to prevent her entrance and she obliterated them. He put up walls to prevent her advance through his memory and she obliterated those too. He rose, casting his eyes away from the creature and breaking the connection, holding his staff to her.

“What are you!? Show yourself!?”

“Gandalf!?” Aragorn breathed in shock. The wolf didn’t move.

“She is not a wolf but one of the Ainur, she must be. I searched her mind but could not gain entry, then she delved into mine. Aragorn, the only ones with abilities that powerful are the Valar.” He turned to the wolf, who hadn’t moved. “What is an Evanuris, an Eluvien? What meaning to they hold?”

“You are in no danger, da'len. There is no need to be hostile.” A melodious, soft tenor rang in their heads.

“Show yourself, witch.” Gandalf ordered.

“Hmmm, now that is a title I have not carried in many centuries. It’s as unoriginal now as it was then.”

“Who are you?” Aragorn asked as he looked around, both at the wolf and around them, more politely toned then the wizard.

“You may call me Variel.” The voice answered. “Sorceress of Tarasyl’an Te’las.

“Show yourself.” Gandalf ordered, a third time and the voice laughed in response. The voice’s laughter was musical and pleasant to the ears.

“As you wish, Olorin.”

Suddenly the wolf shifted into the form of a beautiful woman, slight in build but muscular, with a tan oval face, few freckles, high cheekbones but a flatness to her face that pointed to eastern descent, likely Khand. Her oval eyes were as green as the wolf’s, and her long black hair was elegantly braided in a single pleat. She wore a simple gown that though frayed and warn, was obviously extremely expensive when new, befitting a queen. Her most pronounced feature was her ears, long and pointed, extending nearly passed her skull. They twitched in time with her emotions. She leaned on one hand and rested the other on her legs as she reclined to one side.

“How do you know who I am?” Gandalf didn’t relax, neither did Aragorn at the revelation that the wolf had been a woman the entire time, that the woman he saw bathing in his dreams was her. He was stunned into ashamed silence.

“I know many things Olorin. Do not worry, I did not get your name from your memories, for I already knew it.”

“What is an Evanuris?” Gandalf asked, “and why would you search my mind for it?”

“The question is not what but who.” Variel answered. “They are considered gods where I come from. Before you ask, eluviens are the devices used to exiled me here.”

“What do you mean?” Aragorn finally found his voice.

“I am not from Arda, I am not an Ainur and certainly not a Vala.” Her face fell, full of sorrow and longing. “My husband and I, being nobility in the original elvhen empire, tried to help our People. They hailed us as royalty though we did not want it. Because our political clout, I was banished by Elgar’nan, who sought to hurt my husband in any way possible. And sent me here via eluvien before he shattered it to prevent my returning. I am from a world called Thedas. And I will admit that there the Evanuris are indeed equal in power to the Valar.”

“You are you of the Evanuris?” Gandalf looked at her thoughtfully.

Variel shrugged but did not give a definite answer. She still saw doubt in Gandalf’s eyes, and in Aragorn’s.

“If it would help your belief, I can give you permission to examine my memories as well, Olorin.” She gestured with the hand in her lap then returned it. She looked full into his eyes, and out of curiosity more than anything, Gandalf entered her mind.

Aragorn saw his friends face go from curious to shocked very quickly as he gazed into the girl’s eyes. It was several minutes before they finally broke contact, and he looked drained. Her not so much.

“You have seen more than any in Arda.” He confessed slowly. “And know much of magic, I have never entered a mind that is as organized and protected as yours. Are you not tired, my dear?”

“Not at all.” She smiled at Gandalf.

“That owes to your nature then.” He said knowingly. “Thank you for showing me.”

“You believe her?” Aragorn asked.

“She tells no lie, my friend. Sorceress she may be, and unimaginably powerful, but she knew the history of Arda including the things that have been hidden to all but the Ainur.” Gandalf turned again to Variel “My dear, darkness is coming, we could use someone of your power to help.”

“You have no idea.” She said with a smirk. “I don’t know what my path holds here in Arda, but I know I must try to return to my bonded. If that journey includes lending my aid, I will not hesitate.” She turned to the Ranger. “Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur, it has been a pleasure travelling with you. I did not intend to make you uncomfortable. Ir abelas, I apologize. But non-the less, thank you for your companionship.”

“Not many know that.” Both men looked coldly on the woman.

“You saw the books, Olorin.” She smirked again.

“Where will you go?” Aragorn asked, not wanting to know the details about how she knew his history.

“I do not know.” The woman sighed.

“Try the Gray Havens, then Imladris.” Gandalf suggested.

“Ma serannas, Olorin, thank you. I will take your suggestion. Be wary of Curunir for he is not what you remember.” She turned again to Aragorn. “If my questions go unanswered in Mithlond look out for me outside of Bree, I will be on the heels of four hobbits exiting the Old Forest, one of which carries a great burden. It is safe to talk here about the One as my wards will remain for at least a day.” She fell silent and looked into the fire. They waited for her to say something

“Olorin, do you think..” She started, referencing something that she had shown Gandalf. A tear down her cheek that she wiped away quickly. “Is there any hope?”

“There is always hope, my dear. Be it just a fool’s hope.” She smiled at his response.

“Ma serannas falon. Dar’eth shiral.” She said, hand on her chest and giving a small bow to Gandalf.

Before any could ask her more details as she leaped up and turned, shifting into a wolf and bounding off into the night, leaving two wide eyed and very shocked men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen Translations:  
> ~Elvhen: Immortal progenitors of the elves of Thedas (who have lifespans comparable to humans). Also the spoken language of the Theodesian elves. Literally translates to 'Our People.'  
> ~Evanuris: The pantheon of the Theodesian elves.  
> ~Elgar'nan: Chief of the Evanuris and the god of revenge.  
> ~Eluvian: magical mirrors that facilitate teleportation. Used by the Elvhen Empire as a transportation network and canonically may have lead to other dimensions.  
> ~Da’len: child  
> ~Tarasaylan Telas: A fortress in Thedas and the location where Fen'Harel erected the Fade. Literally translates to "the place where the sky is held back," or Skyhold in Trade Common.  
> ~Ma serannas: My Thanks  
> ~Dareth shiral: a farewell. Literally translates to 'Safe Journey.'  
> Translations from Project Elvhen and https://lingojam.com/ElvenDAI


	3. No Longer Men, But Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those who had sought to claim  
> Heaven by violence destroyed it. What was  
> Golden and pure turned black.  
> Those who had once been mage-lords,  
> The brightest of their age,  
> Where no longer men, but monsters.  
> -Threnodies 12:1

Aragorn waited hidden in the copse across the gate from Bree. It had been three months since Gandalf had warned him of Frodo’s plans and to be mindful. He had traced the hobbits to Crickhollow, admittedly in violation of the agreements that the Dúnedain had with the small folk. Actually, it was one of the reasons that he wished Variel was still with him, she could have entered the Shire with impunity. Then again, he bet that the hobbits would be up in arms when the found traces of the massive dire wolf. He brought his thoughts back to the task at hand, waiting for the hobbits who hid in the Old Wood, where he had lost them.

He looked expectantly down the road, both ways since he was not stupid enough to assume they would come from the direction of the Shire. Suddenly he felt a presence and glanced around himself, not that he could see anything through the shadows of the wood made even more close with the rain that was falling. He stood ridged and tense, ready for whatever could happen. At the edge of his senses he could feel a pang of fear.

"Aragorn." A feminine voice spoke softly from his left causing him to startle. She was quiet, far more so then even elves. He looked over her appearance. She was dressed in a long tunic and headscarf reminiscent of the garments of the nomads of Rhûn. He noticed a hand-and-a-half longsword, with a fancy tapered crossgaurd that angled up and away from the hilt, and quiver at her back. Over them was a ruck with a bedroll and strapped to it a composite bow wrapped with waxed cloth to protect from the rain. She had two sheathed dirks of a strange shape at her hips along with two more small sheathed knives shaped like an eagle's talons on the belt at her waist.

"I was not expecting you, Variel." Aragorn turned back to the roads.

"Uh-huh, right." Variel crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "They haven’t shown yet I take it?"

"Not that I have seen." Aragorn answered grimly.

"Come, da'len. Let’s go to the Prancing Pony, I have wards set to warn me when they arrive." She didn’t give him time to reply as she strode to the gate exuding confidence. He followed.

"Open the gate!" She called, and an elderly keeper slide a window within open and peered out. He opened his mouth to question but she was too fast. "A Ranger and his companion."

The man looked up at Aragorn and nodded, opening the gate. She strode in like she owned the place. And with the power that she displayed to Gandalf, and his wariness of her months ago, he believed she could own the place if she had desired to. She looked around though he could not tell what emotions were playing behind her eyes. When they arrived at the Pony, she let him take the lead.

"Strider, what can I do for ye." the inkeep looked darkly on Aragorn. Variel Folded her arms across her chest and leaned on one leg, sending her gaze around the room. The hair on Aragorn's arms and the back of his neck stood on end.

"Two rooms please." the inkeep raised his eyebrow that the pair.

"No, one." Variel spoke and Aragorn turned to her in surprise. "I don’t care about your propriety." She turned to the inkeep. "One."

He handed her the key and gave the room number before she strode up the stairs with Aragorn following. When she stepped in she sent her eyes around.

"What was that about?"

"Shut the door."

"What. Was. That. About?" He aksked harshly as he complied with her order.

"To many rooms will keep us separate and with what’s coming, being separate is dangerous." She answered in Sindarin as she began drawing the glyphs. He felt the magic she began pulling around her.

"What are you doing, what’s coming?"

"Did you not feel it, da'len? Ones who would wield fear as if it’s their own are coming. I am setting wards to keep the occupants of this room safe."

"You speak of Ringwraiths. What makes you think that you can challenge them."

"Aragorn, I fought the avatar of fear itself." She paused, closing her eyes as unbidden memories of the Nightmare came to her head, "and defeated it. Nine wisps who unskillfully wield fear like a cudgel are nothing compared to that." she turned back to her task. "However, if I were to challenge even most of the nine Dark Ones, I would need to call on power that could destroy Bree. I would rather not do that. Wait for me in the common room, you know who to look for."

He left her and she went back to placing her wards, as he stepped from the room he felt like he could breathe again. He took a table in the corner of the common room and lit his pipe, waiting. It was about a quarter of an hour before Variel appeared again and took a seat across the table from him, her back to the wall.

“When did you learn Sindarin?” He asked in Westron.

“While I was with Círdan in the Grey Havens.” She answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Aragorn raised his eye brow at her. “I am not fluent, but I am getting close.”

“You were gone three months.”

“You think it would take longer than that for a woman who is already fluent in twelve languages?” She raised an eyebrow back.

"So,” Strider spoke after a pause. “You know what’s coming and you knew my history. How?"

"You ask me my secrets, Strider?" She smirked at him.

"I have never seen my friend get as flustered as he got those months ago."

"Hmmm well, that is indeed fascinating." She replied, sending her eyes around the room again. It was relatively full and most of the occupants were occupied with their drinks and conversations though a few looked darkly at the Ranger and his 'companion.'

"I know that Gandalf trusts you, but what did you show him?" Aragorn asked.

"He looked into my mind, as wizards do." She answered.

"But what did he see?"

"My life, things that I couldn’t and shouldn’t hide from people who I want to trust me." She sighed. "He saw my youth, my ascension, my marriage, the founding our empire, our rebellion, the fall of our empire and the twilight of my kin, my sleep and self-imposed memory loss, my spirit wandering in other planes while my body slept, my waking, my rediscovery of my memories, my assistance in preventing two apocalypse, and my failure at preventing a third one. I then showed him what I know of his history and how I know it."

Aragorn looked hard in her eyes, seeing the pain of old wounds and sorrow of old loss.

"You are much older then you appear." He stated.

"You perceive correctly, da'len." She fell silent.

"Just how old are you?" He asked, puffing again on his pipe. She didn’t answer.

"Well, they have arrived." She said quietly. His gaze roamed the room looking for what she referred to. It was a few minutes later that four hobbits entered the Pony and caught the inkeep as he left the common room. "One is identifying himself as Master Underhill. That would be the one we seek, his companions are Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took, and Samwise Gamgee."

"How do you know this, I cannot hear them."

"As elvhen, my hearing is much better than even my People that have faded into the wilds or thecities of humans." Aragorn gave her a curious glance. "Men. I can expand later. Our good Master 'Underhill' is going to panic, keep your eye on him and try to prevent him from doing anything rash if you can. I will be in our rooms." Variel rose and left.

~~~~

"That’s right, Barliman is my name. Barliman Butterbur at your service! You’re from the Shire, eh?" He facepalmed suddenly and the sound caught the attention of the woman passing by. The hobbits eyes were drawn to her, along with most of the people in the room based on her strange appearance of a travel stained headscarf and long tunic not normally seen this far west. She smiled down at the hobbits as she passed, and they noticed the minimally freckled, beautiful oval face, almond shaped intelligent, piercing eyes, and her unfamiliar ethnicity. Something felt off about her to Frodo, not evil or wrong even, just off, and it went deeper than her appearance. Butterbur ignored her presence as she climbed to stairs to the second level.

"Hobbits!" Butterbur cried. "Now what does that remind me of!? Might I ask the names of your companions, Master Underhill?"

"Mr. Took, Mr. Brandybuck," Frodo gestured to his companions. "and this is Sam Gamgee."

"There now, it’s gone again." The inkeep said with a snap of his fingers. "But it will come back, when I have time to think. I am run off my feet, but I will see what I can do for you. We don’t often get a party out of the Shire nowadays, and I should be sorry not to make you welcome. But there is such a crowed already in the house tonight there hasn’t been for long enough. It never rains but it pours, as we say in Bree."

The hobbits look at each other confused as Butterbur shouted for Nob then lead them to their rooms. Later they joined the gathering in the common room to a warm welcome, and the hobbits of Bree taking to Frodo very quickly. For just a second Frodo tried to use the excuse of writing a book as the reason why he left the Shire, but that just got him more attention. Shortly, when he was not forthcoming or receptive to questions, he was left in a corner to his own thoughts and the growing suspicion of the hooded man in the corner whose eyes had never left him.

"Who is that?" Frodo whispered to the inkeep as he rushed passed. Butterbur paused to answer the hobbit's question.

"Him? I don’t rightly know," Butterbur hissed when he turned to the man Frodo indicated. "He is one of the wandering folk, Rangers we call 'em. He seldom talks, not but what he can tell a rare tale when he has the mind. He disappears for a month, or a year, and then pops back up again. He was in and out pretty often last spring, but I haven’t seen him till he appeared with his woman. I didn’t even know he had a woman. What his right name is I’ve never heard but he’s known round here as Strider. Goes about at a great pace on his long shanks. Thought he don’t tell nobody what cause he has to hurry. But there’s no accounting for East and West, as we say in Bree. Meaning the Rangers and the Shire Folk, begging your pardon. Funny you should ask about him..."

Someone called Butterbur and he sped off. Frodo glanced back at Strider and found he was still looking right at him over his pipe. His gaze was intense and unsettling. After a few minutes, Strider gave a wave of his hand and a nod, inviting the hobbit over. As Frodo came near, he drew off his hood, revealing his grey eyes, stern but attractive, thinly bearded face, and shaggy shoulder length hair.

"I am called Strider." He said in a low voice. "I am very pleased to meet you, Master Underhill, if old Butterbur got your name right."

"He did." Frodo replied curtly, not trusting the travel warn and dirty man in front of him.

"Well, Master Underhill, if I were you, I should stop your young friends from talking too much." He said with a wry smile. "Drink, fire, and chance meeting are pleasant enough, but, well, this isn’t the Shire. There are odd folk about. Though I say it as shouldn't, you may think. And there have been stranger travelers through Bree lately."

That was when her heard Pippin's exaggerated tale of the Farewell Party and Bilbo's disappearance. He stood to stop him.

~~~~

After the fiasco that was Frodo's song in the common room, Aragorn lead them to the rooms that he shared with Variel. He pushed them in and the hobbits stopped short, seeing the slight woman sitting on the floor with her legs crossed, appearing to meditate. Her headscarf was down revealing her very long ears that twitched in their direction as they entered. Black hair was braided in a single pleat that she had pulled over her shoulder and it ran down to her waist. She was unarmed except the two small talon shaped knives on her belt and she also wore a black choker with a black pearl that hung between her collar bones.

"I see you have revealed yourself Master Baggins." She said gently. They felt a feeling of safety fall over them and a desire to trust the two people even though they never met. Sam struggled with the feeling before resisting.

"Strider, who is she? Gandalf didn’t mention her in his letter." Sam asked.

"I am Variel of Tarasyl'an Te'las, I came with Aragorn to help you, da’len." The woman answered, finally opening her eyes. “One of your is number missing. He will come shortly with some interesting news."

That instant Nob came running with Merry who was in a panic.

"Thank the...!" Mary exclaimed, out of breath. "When you weren't in your rooms!!!...Whatever, I have seen them, Frodo! I have seen them! Black Riders!"

"Black Riders!? Where!?" Frodo asked frantically as the other hobbits drew close.

"Here in the village. I stayed indoors for an hour. Then as you did not come back I went out for a stroll. I had come back again and was standing just outside the light of the lamp looking at the stars. Suddenly I shivered and felt that something horrible was creeping near."

"Strider. the hobbit is right, they are here." The woman said, and all eyes fell on her. Merry startled as he noticed Aragorn for the first time. "Where did you see it, da'len?"

“Go on!" Frodo drew the poor hobbit out of his trance. "These are friends of Gandalf's, I’ll explain later."

"There was a sort of deeper shade among the shadow across the road just beyond the edge of the lamplight. It slid away at once into the dark without a sound. There was no horse."

"Which way did it go!?" Aragorn asked hurriedly.

"It seemed to make off up the road, eastward." Merry answered. "I tried to follow. Of course, it vanished almost at once, but I went around the corner and on as far as the last house on the Road."

The Aragorn looked at Merry with wonder but Variel had a pleased smile on her face.

"That was foolish," The Ranger told him sternly.

"You are brave, da'len, but Aragorn is right. What happened next?" Variel pushed gently.

"Neither brave nor silly, I think." Merry answered them. "I could hardly help myself, it was as if I was drawn somehow. Anyway, I went and suddenly I heard voices by the hedge. One was muttering and the other was whispering or hissing. I couldn’t hear a word that was said. I did not creep any closer because I began to tremble all over. then I felt terrified and I turned back and was just going to bolt home when something came behind me and me, I, I fell over."

"I found him, sir." Put in Nob. "Mr. Butterbur sent me out with a lantern. I went down to West-gate and then back up towards South-gate. Just nigh bill Ferny's house I thought I could see something in the road. I shouldn’t wear to it, but it looked to me as if two men was stooping over something, lifting it. I gave a shout but when I got up to the spot there was no signs of them and only Mr. Brandybuck lying by the roadside. He seemed to be asleep. 'I thought I had fallen into deep water.' He says to me when I shook him. Very queer he was and as soon as I had roused him, he got up and ran back here like a hare."

"I’m afraid that’s true." The poor hobbit confirmed. "Though I don’t know what I said, I had an ugly dream which I can’t remember. I went to pieces. I don’t know what came over me."

"I do." Aragon Answered.

"As do I, The Black Breath. Come here da'len." Variel rose for the first time and went directly to Merry, "Here, recline in the bed, I need to make sure you did not take too grievous a hurt." Her hands glowed with light purple smoke-like energy as she ghosted over his form. Aragorn shifted uncomfortably but the hobbits were mesmerized.

"Are you doing elvish magic." Variel smiled at Merry’s question.

"It is magic yes, but not just my people, the elvhen and Dalish, can perform this magic. Aragorn, I felt them arrive just after the Hobbits. Five crossed my wards."

"Then they are not all here yet, and they must have left their horses outside and tried to pass back through the South-gate in secret."

"As much as they could." Variel smiled. "Though this is certainly not their first time here. They must have spies in Bree and had at least one in the common room."

"Bill Ferny." Aragorn stated. "And likely that southerner. They will have heard all the news. I fear something may happen in the night, before we leave Bree."

The hobbits paled, and Strider took his leave.

"I think you will be fine, brave one. You were not exposed long and have no lasting injury." Variel told Merry with a smile and stepped away.

"Do you think they will attack the Inn?" Merry asked her.

"I don’t know. They are not all here. Besides, that is not their way. In the lonely dark they are strongest; their power is in terror. though they know not how to fully use their greatest weapon. Historically they do not openly attack houses where there are lights and many people. Even if they had their entire number I would imagine they will be loath to attack when they find out who's protection we have. At worst I feel that they would drive those under control of their terror to do some foul work, Ferny and the southerner, maybe the gatekeeper too.

"We seem to have enemies all around. what are we to do?" Frodo looked at Variel for hope. Variel gently smiled again.

"We are protected as I mentioned. Remain here, the Dark Ones dare not enter."

"How? Are you some sort wizard?" Sam queried. Variel's smile did not change at his question.

"Sorceress, Witch, and Seeress are among the titles that I have been given and have carried, none have yet called me 'wizard.'" There was laughter in her voice as she spoke, and her grin widened.

"You said you are from Tarassaylan talas, I have never heard of that place. Is it a kingdom of the elves?" Frodo asked.

The woman's smile turned sad though didn’t disappear.

"And you know the lands of middle earth well?" She asked.

"In the west, yes."

"Tarasyl'an Te'las is an ancient city and fortress that commands a pass in the Frostback Mountains that connects two countries of men. I am not Eldar, as they call themselves here, but rather I am Elvhen."

"I have never heard of those races or those locations, I assume that you are from a different region in Middle Earth but..." The hobbit's voice trailed off in thought.

"All will be answered in due time." At that moment Aragorn returned reporting that he could not sense the Riders presence. The six settled in for the night. Strider near the door, Variel seated with her back to the hearth meditating, the hobbits on the beds.

~~~~

In the early hours before dawn Frodo woke with a start, disturbed by some sort of presence. He saw Strider gazing at the door and Variel silhouetted in the firelight, an intense look on her face and a light in her eyes. The fire had been stoked and was blazing. He could feel the fear seep in as he sent his eyes around the room.

"Eas fra atish, da'len. You are safe." Her voice floated from her startling both Frodo and catching Strider's attention.

"I feel like..."

"The Black ones." she interrupted, and Frodo fell silent for a good wile.

"Who are they?" He asked finally.

"Is it not enough that they are from Mordor?" Variel answered but Frodo still stared at her expectantly. The elf sighed and gazed at the reflection of the fire on the window and silence fell on the room as she thought. Then she adjusted to face the hobbit, the light of the fire glowing brightly making her look almost demonic.

"They were once human." She answered slowly, pausing to look into Frodo's eyes. "Men. Great kings of their people. They were deceived by the Dark Lord Sauron through the draw of the nine foci he provided. Nine rings. They received the power of their foci, but they were corrupted though their use, becoming wraiths. They are the Nazgul, the greatest weapon of the enemy."

Frodo sat silently, mulling over her words.

"Do all foci corrupt?" Frodo asked after the silence. Variel's hand went to her neck and fingered the pearl that sat there.

"A better statement is that all foci can corrupt." Variel answered. "When foci are claimed by one who lacks the strength to properly wield it, or whose magic does not match a foci’s attunement, it will corrupt. I witnessed the Orb of the Dread Wolf, an extremely powerful foci made for the God of Rebellion in my home, corrupt one and torture another, then lead to the deaths of thousands in the apocalypse that occurred as a result of its use. Likely it would have led to more pain and death had Fen'Harel not recovered it and stopped the apocalypse."

"Can the...Uh...." Frodo fell silent.

"Isildur's Bane is not nearly as powerful as the Orb of the Dread Wolf." Variel answered, knowing what the hobbit was asking. "The Dread Wolf is a god powerful enough to have split the world of spirits and the real world, there by creating a new, artificial reality, through use of his foci. Sauron could not dream of performing an action such as that.”

"And do you have a foci of the like of the Orb of Fen’Harel? Is that how you know about the rings of power?” Aragorn asked her with a dark look.

“I happen to know much about foci due to my role in resolving the apocalypse caused by unlocking the Dread Wolf’s orb.”

“And what role did you play?” Aragorn was still casting a hard, inquisitive glance at the woman.

"Inquisitive.” An amused smirk enveloped her face. "All will be revealed in due time. For now, be at peace.” She turned to Frodo. “The Nine cannot enter here, not without a fight that they cannot win. Ma elanas hamin da'len. Sleep"

Frodo felt irresistible drowsiness wash over him and he reluctantly laid back down. He was asleep by the time his head hit the pillow. Variel smiled at the hobbit.

"What did you do?" Aragorn asked.

"A sleep spell, allowing him to push passed his fear and rest."

"What does it feel like?"

"It increases the desire to rest, making sleep irresistible. It can be resisted providing the spell is known."

"You did that to me, the first week we met." Aragorn pointed out.

"I wanted a bath." She defended herself with a laugh. "Can you blame me?"

“You didn’t answer my question.” Aragorn told her.

She cast him an unreadable glance in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations  
> ~Eas fra atish, da'len: be at peace child.  
> ~Ma elanas hamin da'len: you can sleep child.  
> Translations from Project Elvhen and https://lingojam.com/ElvenDAI


	4. Be My Guide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though all before me is shadow,  
> Yet shall the Maker be my guide.  
> I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond.  
> For there is no darkness in the Maker’s Light.  
> And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.  
> -Trials 1:14

“Never has such a thing happened in my lifetime!” Butterbur cried, gesticulating in horror. “Guests unable to sleep in their beds, and good bolsters ruined and all! What are we coming too?!”

“Dark times.” Was striders grim answer.

“All doom and gloom.” Variel smirked. “Butterbur, I hope that for the present you will remain in peace, at least when you have gotten rid of us.”

“We are already packed, and ready. Breakfast is not necessary, a drink and a bite standing will have to do.” Strider ignored the hobbits whining which only made Variel roll her eyes.

“That’s what you think.” She commented, uncrossing her arms and leaving the room.

Only minutes later they found that all the pony’s in the village had been driven off save one. A promise from the Inkeep to find horses along with a two hour wait, and a large breakfast later, and Variel rose to leave quite suddenly. Another hour and Bob, Butterbur’s stablemaster, returned with unwelcome news.

“One pony remains, a poor old half-starved creature it is.” Said bob. “But he won’t part with it for less than thrice its worth, seeing how you’re placed, not if I knows Bill Ferny, and that’s if you manage to outdo who he is currently bargaining with.”

“Bill Ferny.” Said Frodo. “Isn’t there some trick? Wouldn’t the beast bolt back to him, or help tracking us or something. Wait someone is already trying to buy the beast?”

“Who?” Strider asked when Frodo finally stopped rambling.

“A lass I have never seen before, if we hurry you might be able to counter offer.” Bob quickly lead them from the stables.

But it was too late. Ferny’s pony was being led down the Road by a woman in a long tunic and headscarf.

“This won’t do, this won’t do at all.” Groaned Sam.

“Maybe we can bargain with her? Pippin suggested.

“Or she will charge us more.” Frodo said mournfully. They all looked at Strider, who just smirked.

“I’m sorry young masters” Bob said before turning back to his own mess.

“There isn’t much we can do at this point, come let’s get our things.” He stated and turned back into the Inn. The hobbits followed dejectedly. Upon arriving at their rooms, they found that Variel’s pack was missing.

Butterbur offered to buy the pony that Bill had till he found that it had already been purchased out from under them. He later offered them another 18 pence to cover the ponies of Merry’s that had been driven off in the night. When he was asked how badly that would hurt them he stated that he had been offered a handsome sum to outfit a woman for travel. The hobbits became even more dejected.

“I imagine that Variel made off with the pony to spite us.” Sam growled as they left.

“Sam, we don’t even know if it was her, I’m sure there are a number of women that want to leave.” Frodo scolded but he too thought along the same lines as Sam.

“Be patient, wait and see.” Strider commented as they stepped to the street. It was the first time he had mentioned the pony since Bob had inquired about it.

“Wait, is that the pony?” Pippin called, they followed his finger to the woman leading a thin and underfed pony carrying several saddlebags filled with gear.

“About time you five actually came to leave.” Variel called as she stopped next to them. “I wondered if I would have to go hunt for you.”

“We thought you left us.” Pippin voiced what the hobbits were thinking.

“I told you to wait and see.” Strider had a smug tone to his voice.

“I knew she didn’t leave us.” Merry pipped up.

“Uh-huh.” Variel replied sarcastically. “Come, we can't tarry.”

Their leaving was unfortunately met with a crowd. Some remained silent from awe of Strider but many more shouted unfriendly comments at the six as they passed. For Variel, it was no different from entering Val Royeaux with her close friends and sisters in arms Nolanni and Nesianowen and getting greeted with words like “Rabbit” and “Knife Ear” or being called “Flat Ear” by her own People. It could be worse, which caused Variel to smirk darkly. Manny shut up and drew away when either Aragorn turned his stare on them or they received Variel’s dangerously dark look. Sam chewed an apple while thinking about the morning so far, and his new companion’s reactions. He first looked up when he caught glimpse of the southerner in an ill-kept house behind a think hedge. Bill Ferny stared at them over his hedge.

“Mornin Longshanks! Off early?” He spat at their feet. “Found some friends at last? And a whore to keep you company! And it’s the bitch who bought my beloved pony, make sure you take care of him lassy, if you find the time between pleasuring your companions.”

“Fenedhis lasa shem! Get out of my sight!” Variel snarled in his direction and he replied with a sneer before turning to the hobbits.

“Mornin my little friends.” He continued. “I suppose you know who you’ve taken up with? That’s stick-at-naught Strider that is! Though I’ve heard other names not so pretty. Watch out tonight! Especially when your sharing his whore!” He spat over his hedge.

“You Ferny,” Sam called. “Put your ugly face out of sight or it will get hurt.”

Several things happened at once. The dark smirk returned on Variel’s face as Sam retorted. The hobbit’s wrist flicked out and the apple left his hand, quick as lightning. At that same instant, Variel cast a spell at the apple without gesturing or speaking. The apple was encased in a static charge just before it hit the man square in the nose. The sound of the impact was augmented by a reverberating snap of the static discharge. It was a few minutes before a groan was heard on the other side of the hedge.

Upon leaving the South-gate, the six struck out into the wild. They only stopped for breaks at Variel's insistence. As night fell the hobbits began to prepare to light a fire. Variel stopped them.

"No Da'len, not yet."

"But..." Pippin looked up at Variel and stopped short. Her eyes gleamed in the dark. "Your...your eyes, they..."

The rest of the hobbits looked up, seeing that indeed, Variel's eyes were gleaming.

"Are you a witch?"

"I was called witch once, yes, but assuming that your seeing my eyes, that is a trait of my race rather than my magic ability." She answered, becoming sad. "All the elvhen, especially the ancient ones, have eyes that glow in darkness. Anyways, no fire. Ferny will have watched where we had left the road, providing he had any sort of coherency left." Strider smirked at her remark.

"He is smart enough not to challenge me when it comes to navigating the wilds. But I worry about what information he will give to others. Variel is right, at the moment we cannot light a fire.

"I will be back." The witch nodded to the ranger and she wandered off into the woods.

The next morning Strider and Variel woke them before dawn and again they marched well into the evening. Again, Variel left camp for a good ten minutes before returning. On the night of the third day Variel finally relented to making a camp and lighting a fire.

The trees were thinning, and the ground became wet and mucky. tufts of grasses provided trails between shallow puddles that formed from the wet ground. The insects were terrible.

"I am being eaten alive!" Pippin cried, flailing at the insects.

"Fuck this, am I in the Kocari wilds again?" Variel muttered under her breath before whispering something to Aragorn and leaving the camp.

"Where she going?" Merry asked while Sam mumbled something under his breath about what the midges eat when there are no hobbits around. To them it seemed that the man and elf, depsite her comments, were unconcerned, oddly.  
"She is hunting." Strider said simply, but of that he would say no more. Several hours later and a massive white wolf trotted into camp carrying a few hares in its mouth. It had mud up to its haunches and blood streaked along its jaws, its coat was pure white otherwise with the only other color being a black mark at the base of its neck. The Hobbits recoiled, though Frodo looked at her curiously. The wolf trotted straight to Strider as if it knew him well.

"Thank you, Ninim. Is your hunt finished?" The wolf huffed at him, and turned, casting a glance at the hobbits before disappearing into the brush again.

"Was it smiling at us?" Sam hissed to Frodo. He was disconcerted. The wolf had green eyes with a spark of unnatural intelligence to them, and indeed he thought the wolf had grinned at them as well.

"She is very unique for her race." Strider grinned. "Do not worry, she will be back with enough for all of us."

"Variel or the wolf?" Frodo asked suspiciously. Strider answered with a mysterious smile.

Variel herself entered in camp with a deer on her back half an hour later. She looked at the hobbits with a smile as she knelt to dress her catch. Frodo caught her eyes and his mouth dropped with the shock of realizing that both the wolf and Variel had the exactly same green eyes with gold surrounding her pupil and black and gold flecks throughout.

"Da'len if you keep your mouth open much longer the midges will fly in." Frodo's mouth clicked shut. "I see that Ninim came around?" She asked Strider.

"Yes, I think with the hares and the deer we will have just enough to fill the hobbits with some left over for us." both the man and elf smirked at the hobbit's indignant retorts.

"Who is Ninim?" Frodo finally asked.

"The name Strider gave to a rather large white dire wolf that latched on to him a few months back. She visits occasionally." Frodo looked at Variel and back at Strider, opening his mouth to speak but decided to remain quiet.

The next day was much the same as the previous, walking through the pathless marsh with Variel disappearing and then reappearing with a deer. The wolf didn’t come back. That night Frodo tossed and turned uneasily, unable to sleep. When he pulled himself up Variel’s glowing eyes were facing east. He opened his mouth to speak, though he closed it again.

"Spirits in the Fade are restless." Variel said slowly and quietly, as if speaking her thought out loud. "Something is disturbing their slumber, some are being corrupted with fear. I sensed it when I crossed the Veil."

"What?" Frodo asked, then heard strider rise.

"Enfenim'garas dorf'sa, thuast tel'enfanim. He will fight." She said, still thinking aloud.

A light flashed in the distance in the east, almost like lightning. Strider and Frodo looked east, and the light flashed again.

"What is that light?" Frodo asked as Strider rose and stood on the edge of the camp, gazing into the night.

"I do not know, it is too distant to make out." He answered, turning to Variel.

"Do not look at me, Aragorn, I can’t see that far. I can only conclude that a fight is occurring between powerful mages. Sorry, wizards, sorcerers, necromancers, wraiths..." She waved her hand leaving them options to choose from rather than mage.

"Mage?"

"A person that wields magic. Like a wizard except much more common. It’s what I was in Thedas, my home. I was an elvhen Mage, considered an Apostate, one not raised within a circle or mage prison."

"They put magical people in prison?"

"Indeed, da'len." She answered Frodo. "Racism and fear run deep in my home and is encouraged by the Chantry. It affects everyone. Some elves are little better then slaves in the cities they reside, and others wander in isolationist nomadic clans, shunning men and are in turn shunned. The Chantry teaches its followers to fear magic, 'Magic must serve man, not rule over him' So says the Maker, or Eru, so the Chantry would have you believe. Thus, per the Maker's commandment, mages are interned in Circles, guarded by knights trained with their own magic, trained to hunt and kill any magic user."

"Why have your people accepted that evil so readily?" Strider breathed.

"You state absolutes," Her words were hard, sad, and cold. "In Thedas, and indeed if you look deeper in Arda, you will find that morality is not as black and white." Variel paused, closing her eyes as if the memory pained her. "I have seen good men and women turn to immoral practices and blood magic, desperate to prevent apocalypses called Blights from destroying their lands. I have seen Templars tortured brutally and feeling forced into enacting rituals that purge the minds from mages, all because mages, oppressed by templars, felt drastic action was needed to change their fate. I have watched as desperate men, in the wake of a war costing tens of millions of lives, drop a weapon on a city, instantly killing all and making the land unlivable for hundreds of thousands of years, to prevent further loss of life. My Husband told me of an Empire who abused magic, tearing their way into the Fade as I slept, sparking the Blights. That same Empire, while abusing magic, was brought to its knees by one of its former slaves, Andraste, the 'prophetess' worshiped as the Bride of the Maker by the Chantry. The very same Chantry who imprisons mages." She sighed. "And now I am monologuing. I guess what I am trying to say is morality is not black and white. Everyone has faults, everyone's actions have a justifiable reason. It’s something I had to tell myself when I clashed with my kin, June, Falon'din, Elgar'nan, when Aasha and I clashed with Corypheus, when my friend Hawke met the Arishok in battle and when her spouse blew the Chantry of Kirkwall. It’s something to remember when you clash with the ones following Sauron and Saruman."

"You sound as if you have faced darkness before." Aragorn was looking at Variel intently. She was still staring into the fire. The Frodo stayed silent, contemplating the elf's words.

"Yes, I have." Variel said quietly then fell silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> ~Fenedhis lasa: expletive, translation: Eat a wolf's dick  
> ~Shem: short version of 'shemlan' meaning 'quickling' used by Dalish elves as a slur for humans. Used by elvhen as a slur for any non-elvhen, thus mortal, being.  
> ~Enfenim'garas dorf'sa, thuast tel'enfanim: Fear approaches the grey one, however he is not afraid.  
> Translations from Project Elvhen and https://lingojam.com/ElvenDAI  
> Mentioned locations and entities :  
> ~Nesianowen: Major character in the prequel.  
> ~Nolanni: Major character in the prequel.  
> ~Val Royeaux: Capital of Orlais in Thedas  
> ~Kocari Wilds: Thickly forested swamp land in southern Ferelden  
> ~Chantry: Religious entity in Thedas, roughly equivalent to the Catholic Church in its role.  
> ~Templars: Military branch of the Chantry, members are controlled through the use of a highly addictive drug called Lyrium that does enhance latent abilities. Their role is to counter mages specifically.  
> ~June: An Evanuris and the craftsman god.  
> ~Falon'din: An Evanuris and the god who is the "Friend of the Dead"  
> ~Aasha: Inquisitor Aasha Trevelyan, main character of my fic "The Raven Herald" and a major character in the prequel to this one. As well as one of my PCs for Dragon Age Inquisition.  
> ~Corypheus: Primary antagonist of Dragon Age Inquisition.  
> ~Hawke: PC of Dragon Age 2  
> ~Arishok: Qunari and an antagonist of Dragon Age 2  
> ~Kirkwall: Setting of Dragon Age 2, a major trade city located in the Free Marches.


	5. A Sword to Peirce the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now her hand is raised  
> A sword to pierce the sun  
> With iron shield she defends the faithful  
> Let chaos be undone.  
> -Victoria 1:3

Partway through the fifth day they finally made it out the Midgewater Marshes, leaving the biting insects behind. In front of them stood a line of hills with one separated from the rest, having a flat top. Southwest of them stood a line of greens and tans of a forest.

"Weathertop?" Variel cocked her head in Strider's direction, who nodded. "I have never seen the hill in person."

"The Old Road, which we have left far on our right," Aragorn explained, "runs to the south of it and passes not far from its foot. We might reach it by noon tomorrow if we make straight towards it."

"I think we had better do just that, Aragorn." Variel advised quietly.

"What do you mean?" Frodo asked.

"We don’t know what we will find when we get there." Variel explained." Gandalf might be there, but I doubt it. It offers a wide view of the surrounding countryside and we could check for pursuers. The Dark Ones will likely make for the hill as well."

"Indeed." Strider agreed. "There are many birds and beasts in this country that could see us, as we stand here, from that hill-top. Not all the birds are to be trusted, and there are other spies more evil then they are."

"Hmmm," Was all Variel said as she gazed at the ridge. the hobbits looked anxiously about them, with Sam looking up fearing to see birds of prey circling overhead.

"You two do make me feel lonesome." he said.

"You could try sleeping for a few thousand years and waking up with no memories, da'len.” Variel snarked.

"What would you have us do Strider?" Frodo asked. The Ranger didn’t reply, instead gazed thoughtfully at the hills till Variel spoke.

"You know of a path at the foot of the hills, if you are determined to investigate that rise, I would suggest making for that path, besides it will provide at last a little cover for a night."

"Yes, let’s do that." Strider said finally. "Approach Weathertop from the north and we will see what we see."

Variel nodded and began walking, the rest followed. As the sun rose in the sky, Variel began looking about her, a dark look clouding her face.

"What’s wrong, Variel?" Sam asked, having noticed her face as they walked side by side.

"Hmmm? nothing da'len." She answered but her face didn’t change.

"What does dalan mean?" He asked, curious since she had been calling the hobbits that since they had met.

"It means child." She answered.

"We aren’t children!" Pippin called.

"Maybe you should act like an adult then." Variel said with a smirk. Frodo snorted, Aragorn chuckled, Sam smiled, and Merry ‘I told you so'-d.

"So, am I a child as well?" Strider asked her.

"You called him that to?" Sam asked, shocked. "He is the least childlike of all of us!"

"Having lived for well over ten thousand years, you are all children in my eyes." Variel smirked as her words floored all her companions. She walked on however her face darkened again.

"Is something wrong?" Strider hissed when he caught up with her.

"A shadow and a threat." Variel replied quietly.

Aragorn thought about her age when her voice rang in his head, like it did when she first spoke to him. 'They are watching Amon Sul, Estel, it would be prudent to continue East once we reach the ridge. Think your answer and do not state it aloud.'

‘Gandalf might have left a message there’ He thought as coherently as he could.

'This is not a good idea, but if you are sure, da'len.' Variel shrugged and continued along.

By nightfall on the sixth day out from Bree they reached the feet of the western slops of the hills. They made an undulating ridge, rising several hundred, almost a thousand feet only to fall into sharp clefts that could be used to go east. Along the crest of the hills ancient stonework and the remains of earthworks and walls could be seen. They camped at the base of the hill that night. Though Variel made an odd circle around their camp she didn’t leave to go hunting. The dark look on her face hadn’t moved and she had fallen much more silent then the hobbits and even Strider were used too. It made them all uneasy.

The next morning, they found a clear path that turned south and followed the base of the hills. It wound through dells, boulders, and massive ruins and pieces of masonry and hugged the steep banks as if it was made intentionally to be hidden from the view of both the hill-tops on their left and the flats to their right.

“I wonder who made this path, and what for.” Said Merry. “I’m not sure that I like it, it has, well, rather barrow-whightish look. Is there any barrow on Weathertop?”

“No. There is no barrow on Weathertop, nor any of these hills.” Aragorn responded. “The Men of the West did not live here, thought in their latter days they defended the hills for a while against the evil that came out of Angmar. This path was made to serve the forts along the walls. But long before, in the first days of the North Kingdom, they built a great watch-tower on Weathertop, Amon Sul they called it. It was burned and broken, nothing remains of it now but a tumbled ring, like a rough crown on the old hill’s head. Yet once it was tall and fair.”

Strider walked quietly for several breaths, remembering, before he spoke again.

“It is told that Elendil stood there watching for the coming of Gil-Galad out of the West, in the days of the Last Alliance.”

“Who was Gil-Galad?” Merry asked. Before Strider could answer Sam began chanting. Veriel listened, for the poem was beautiful even if she could tell based on its pacing that it was meant for a different language. The look she had been carrying over the day finally fell from her face. The rest of the hobbits looked in amazement at Sam, who blushed.

“Don’t stop!” said Merry.

“That’s all I know, I learned it from Mr. Bilbo when I was a lad.” Sam replied, stammering. “He used to tell me tales like that, knowing how I was always one for hearing about Elves. It was Mr. Bilbo as taught me my letters. He was mighty book-learned was dear old Mr. Bilbo. And he wrote poetry. He wrote what I have just said.”

“He did not make it up.” Aragorn said. “It is part of the lay that is called the Fall of Gil-Galad. Which is in an ancient tongue. Bilbo must have translated it. I never knew that.”

“There was a lot more, all about Mordor.” Sam continued. “I didn’t learn that part. It gave me the shivers. I never thought I should be going that way myself.”

“Going to Mordor!?” Cried Pippin.

“Do not speak that name so loudly!” Aragorn sternly scolded. Variel snorted loudly and her companions looked to her quizzically. Especially Strider.

“What? You give too much credit to names.” She said with an exaggerated eye roll. “As do many, its not like invoking a location name will attract its inhabitants or calling on the name of someone like Thalia, the Goddess of Protection, is actually going to do anything for you.”

“Oddly specific. Thalia is from your world, I am assuming.” Frodo spoke for the first time.

“Yep.” Variel popped the ‘p.’ “Worshiped during the height of Elvhenan, the elvish empire, and later by the Dalish elves and invoked to protect them from Fen'harel, who to them is the Trickster that steals dreams.” She shook her head.

“You speak of them as if they were real in your world, but how would you know that they don’t intervene when invoked?” Frodo asked.

“They indeed were real. And trust me da’len, I would know if invoking their name actually called to them.” She answered. Her companions looked to her to elaborate but she pointedly ignored them.

As they reached the hill of Weathertop itself they found a bowl shaped grassy dell. Strider, Merry, and Frodo continued to climb to the summit while the other three remained. Sam and Pippin explored as Variel circled the camp, her magic flaring in her hands as she wrote glyphs in air then gestured to cast them to the ground. They flashed with her mana before falling invisible.

“Found a spring and firewood.” Sam called. “And it looks like someone camped here.”

“Indeed.” Variel replied, continuing with her work.

“What are you doing?” Pippin asked the elf.

“Setting wards to keep us protected. I have a feeling we will need them.”

“What do they do? Could we learn them?”

“So many questions, da'len." She laughed. "They do a variety of things. I use most of them as an early warning system and to reduce the chances of hostile eyes perceiving our presence. I have also added sound dampening glyphs and out of habit admittedly, glyphs and wards that strengthen the Veil and help to prevent spirits, malevolent or otherwise, from bothering us. And unfortunately, no, to power these wards to their full potential you would have to be able to draw on the power of the Fade, and I have yet to see any able to do that beyond the Ainur.”

“Why would spirits be a problem?” Pippin got over any disappointment of her answer and continued probing her with questions.

“In Thedas, people dream in a dream-world we call the Fade, where spirits and demons reside. Mages specifically, as well as I've'anvirelan like myself and my husband, can control our dreams to a point, making us targets for demons who wish to cross the Veil separating the Fade and the Waking World. My wards around the camp help protect from that very thing. I am thinking that they may have an effect on the Dark Ones if they try to invade our camp.”

Pippin mouthed ‘Oh’ and looked around thoughtfully. It was shortly after that Strider returned with Merry and Frodo. Though he left shortly after to explore the camp, saying something about examining the ground.

“It is just as I feared.” He complained upon returning. “Sam and Pippin have trampled the soft ground, and the marks are spoilt or confused. Rangers have been here lately. It is they who left the firewood behind. But there are also several newer tracks no made by Rangers. At least one set was made, only a day or two ago, by heavy boots. At least one. I cannot now be certain, but I think there were many booted feet.”

Each of the hobbits saw the Black Riders in their minds as he paused, lost in thought. Sam got a look of dislike as he sent his eyes around the dell.

“Shouldn’t we clear out quick, Mr. Strider?” He had an impatient air to his voice. “I do not like the feel of this place.”

“Yes, we certainly must decide what to do at once.” Aragorn answered the hobbit. Variel joined the group, now finished with her wards. “Well Sam, I do not like this place either, but I cannot think of anywhere better that we could reach before nightfall. At least we are out of sight for the moment, and if we moved we should be much more likely to be seen by spies. All we could do would be to go right out of our way back north on this side of the line of hills, where the land is all much the same as it is here. The Road is watched, but we should have to cross it, if we tried to take cover in the thickets away to the south. On the north side of the Road beyond the hills is flat for miles.”

“Can the Riders see?” Asked Merry, “I mean they seem to usually have used their noses rather than their eyes, smelling for us, if smelling is the right word, at least in daylight. But you made us lie down flat when you saw them down below, and now you talk of being seen if we move.”

“The Riders themselves can see, yes, but its different from us.” Variel answered. “We cast shadows in their mind, or so I’m told. I’m more inclined to think that they can sense the auras of the people and creatures around them.”

“I was too careless on the hill-top.” Strider continued. “I was very anxious to find some sign of Gandalf, but it was a mistake for the three of us to go up and stand there for so long. For the black horses see as we do, and the Riders can use men and other creatures as spies, as we found at Bree. Variel is right otherwise.”

“You can feel their presence. It troubles our hearts.” The witch pointed out.

“Is that why you have been quiet?” Frodo asked Variel who hummed her affirmative.

“Also” Strider dropped his voice to a whisper. “The Ring draws them.”

“Is there no escape then!?” Frodo cried, frantically looking around him. “If I move I shall be seen and hunted! If I stay I shall draw them to me!”

“There is still hope.” Strider bent before Variel could, laying his hand on the poor hobbit’s shoulder.

“You are not alone, Frodo.” Variel stated. “Remember what I said at Bree?”

He nodded to her.

“Same applies here. Do not leave my side and you shall be protected.”

“Let us take the firewood as a sign.” Strider continued. “There is little shelter or defense here, but a fire shall serve for both. The Dark Lord can put fire to his evil uses, as he can all things, but these Riders do not love it, and fear those who wield it. Fire is our friend in the wilderness.”

“Maybe.” Replied Frodo. “But its also a good way of announcing our presence.”

In the lowest part of the dell, they prepared their camp. This time, Variel made the fire before any could start themselves. She made sure to have long sticks sticking out that can be picked up and use as a flaming cudgel if necessary. The hobbits sat mesmerized as she extended her hand, palm up, and blue fire tumbled down into the wood. They could feel the heat of it as the wood burned.

“That’s a neat trick.” Pippin complemented.

“Hmmm. Let’s get a meal going, shall we?”

“I don’t see how our food can last.” Frodo stated, pulling out what they had. “We have been careful enough in the last few days, but this supper is no feast, we have used more then we ought, if we have two weeks still to go, and perhaps more.”

“There is food in the wild, berry, root, and herb.” Strider replied. “And I have some skill as a hunter at need.”

“Or you can rely on Ninim.” Variel pointed out.

“Or that.” Strider smiled up at her.

“I haven’t seen the wolf though.” Sam pointed out.

“That’s because you’re not looking, Samwise.” Variel told him while shooting a wink at Frodo.

As the light faded a chill fell on their camp. Peering into the dark they could see nothing but grey land vanishing in a shadow. Strider and Variel stood a little apart while the hobbits huddled around the fire, both telling tales to keep their minds clear. Both knew histories and legends, with Variel speaking about the rise and fall of Arlathan as if she was an eye witness. When asked she stated she was. Strider focused on legends of the Elder Days, of which even Variel, with her age, was fascinated.

“I have never heard these tales spoken by one who has heard it from the eye witnesses.” She stated.

"What about the Dread Wolf? That seems like a weird name for a god." Said Merry.

"That's because its not his name, its his title." Variel replied. "You see, the Dread Wolf is the god of trickery. He was an anomaly among both the Evanuirs and the Forgotten Ones, being able to walk among both groups."

"Does he have any stories? Like Gil-Galad?" Pippin asked.

"Do I know stories of ma'vhenan?" Variel mumbled with a smile, the smile one gets when thinking of fond memories. "I'll share the tale of Fen'Harel and the Tree.

"In this story, Fen'Harel was captured by the hunting goddess, Andruil. He had angered her by hunting the halla, deer like creatures with light coats and beautifully ornate antlers, without her blessing. So she tied him to a tree and declared that he would have to serve in her bed for a year and a day to pay her back." Aragorn caught a glimpse of emotion cross Variel's face when she stated this, as if teh memory angered her. "Fen'Harel, who was engaged to his childhood sweetheart Thalia, the protector goddess, refused Anduril and tried his best to dissuade her from forcing him to join her starting that night. But as she made camp, one of the Forgotten Ones, the dark god Anaris found them. Anaris swore that he would kill Fen'Harel for crimes against the Forgotten Ones. Seeing his chance, Fen'Harel goaded Andruil and Anaris into dueling for the right to claim Fen'Harel.

"He called out to Anaris during the fight and told him of a flaw in Andruil's armor just above the hip. Anaris stabbed Andruil in the side, and she fell. Then Fen'Harel told Anaris that he owed the Dread Wolf for the victory and ought to get his freedom. Anaris was so affronted by Fen'Harel's audacity that he turned and shouted insults at the prisoner, and so he did not see Andruil, injured but alive, rise behind him and attack with her great bow. Anaris fell with a golden arrow in his back, badly injured. While both gods slumbered to heal their wounds, Fen'Harel chewed through his ropes and escaped."

"He sounds devious." Pippin mused

"He is the Trickster god, da'len." Variel smiled at him. "There are many stories of Fen'Harel getting the better of the Evanuris and Forgotten Ones. Its those stories that fueled the misconception the People had of Fen'Harel. They thought he was evil because he stood against the gods on their behalf."

Aragorn caught the brief glimpse if adoration cross Variel's face.

"Who is Fen'Harel to you?" Her eyes snapped up at him, but didn't betray any emotion. 

"Fen'Harel is family." She answered and refused to go into further details.

"Do you have any more stories?" Pippin asked her."

"Several and if we make it to Rivendell, I will tell a few." She smiled at the hobbits.

“Tell us of Gil-Galad.” Requested Merry after a few minutes. “Do you know any more of that old lay that you spoke of?”

“I do indeed.” Strider answered. “So also does Frodo, for it concerns us closely.” The young hobbits looked at their companion with pleading faces.

“I know of only a little.” Frodo admitted. “Gil-Galad was the last of the great Elf-Kings of Middle-earth. Gil-Galad is starlight in their tongue. With Elendil, the Elf-friend, he went to the land of….

“No!” Strider interrupted. Variel rolled her eyes. “I do not think that tale should be told now with the servants of the Enemy at hand. If we win through to the House of Elrond, you may hear it there, told in full.

“Then tell us some other tale of the old days.” Begged Sam. “A tale about the elves before the fading time? I would dearly like to hear more about elves, the dark seems to press round so close.”

At those words Variel stood and walked to the edge of the dell, just outside the firelight.

“I will tell you the tale of Tinuviel.” Answered Aragorn. “In brief for it is a long tale of which the end is not known. There are none now, except Elrond, that remember it aright as it was told of old. It is a fair tale, though it is sad, as are all tales of Middle-earth and yet it may lift your hearts.”

And he delved into the Lay of Luthien and then when he finished he explained it to the hobbits. Variel smiled from her place as she peered into the darkness. She had felt the dark presence of the demons called the Nazgul days earlier but now it was getting stronger. A fear that reminded her of the Nightmare, just not so targeted as his. Though she had excellent night vision, whatever was out there was just beyond the slope and concealing itself from her view. She sighed as Aragorn ended the Lay. The dell was suddenly bathed in a white light that extended down the slope.

“Look! The moon is rising. It must be getting late.” Merry said from by the fire.

Using the light of the moon to her advantage, she peered deeper, stretching farther with her aura. Then she found them, approaching in stealth and almost at the foot of the hill. She rushed back.

“Strider, they’re here!”

“Who’s there!?” Pippin asked.

“Keep close to the fire, with your faces outward.” Cried the Ranger. “Get some of the longer sticks ready in your hands.”

“Do not leave the dell, and do not leave my side.” Variel stated with fever.

The hobbits were restless. Nothing was happening and like all battles, Variel knew that the waiting beforehand was the worst.

“What’s that!?” gasped Pippin at the same time as Strider hushed them.

Over the lip of the dell on the side of the slope, all but Variel felt rather then saw a shadow rise. They strained their eyes as the shadow began to grow. Seconds ticked by slowly before they saw that there were four black figures on the slope, looking down on them. To all but Variel they were black holes in the night behind. To Variel herself, she could see their forms, and she was not surprised. They advanced on the group.

Terror overcame them with exception of the witch. Pippin and Merry threw themselves flat on the ground. Sam shrunk to Frodo’s side. Frodo himself was shaking in terror, but that was swallowed by a sudden desire to put on the ring.

“Ju te ir'veraan esha'ala!" Variel snarled as she drew her sword from her back. The use of her native tongue causing the Ringwraths to pause their advance, hissing at her in a dark tongue.

Only Strider noticed that suddenly Variel’s eyes became clouded with purple fire. She lifted her left hand from her side, more out of habit then necessity, and suddenly a flame rune appeared under each wrath, exploding and causing them to stumble. As she completed the motion of the first spell she drew fire around the blade of her sword and began casting several spells at once. All her companions felt a calming aura wash over them as she cast a barrier that enveloped them. It still did little to quell their fear.

“Do not give in!” Frodo heard Variel as she sent a firestorm that scorched everything in front of her and lit up the dell like daylight. But to Frodo, that suggestion seemed ridiculous, and he slipped the ring on his finger.

Everything went as dim as before. But the shapes became terribly clear. To his left he saw the blinding figure of a woman, shining with white-gold divine light. In front of him were five tall figures, two standing at the lip of the dell, having been pushed back by Variel’s onslaught of fire as well as her aura, while three were being protected by the central figure, and they were advancing. Their white faces were pierced with merciless eyes and rings glowed on their fingers. Their mantles and armor glowed pale white under their black cloaks. The one in the center had a gleaming crown. All held swords, but the king held a knife that glowed a pale light.

In renewed fear, Frodo stumbled out of Variel’s protective aura. The King caught sight of him and strode forward. Frodo heard a cry and a roar as Variel engaged the approaching wraiths, hitting them with spells and her blade. Strider had engaged to assist her. Frodo charged, lashing out like a cornered animal.

“O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!” He shouted, swinging his sword at the pale king’s leg’s. He heard a shriek and at the same time he felt a pain in his shoulder. He stumbled back, grabbing at the ring. The last thing he saw before pulling it off his finger was the figure of Variel, shinning even brighter in her wrath, bearing down on the wraiths.

Variel heard the hobbit’s shout but before she could respond Frodo cried aloud in pain. Now that she could see where all the hobbits were, she spun on the leading wraith and he dropped the knife he held to defend himself from her. But her skill and experience with a sword and magic far outdid any of theirs, combined. She encased them in ice, halting their advance just before pounding them with with summoned boulders all while attacking with her swords. Her motions were as fluid as water and as deadly as the firestorm and she had summoned, her blade found purchase in the weak points of their armor. The blue flames flowing down her blade went searing into her targets as she struck, lighting them ablaze from the inside. She cut through the wraiths in mere seconds with what appeared to be a single fluid, continuous action, sending them screeching in fear and pain. The Witch King attempted to defend himself, but he was no match for her onslaught and was quickly overwhelmed by the woman.

When she spun around, she took in the scene. Strider finishing off the off the remaining two, and the dell itself was scorched. The hobbits were surrounding Frodo who had his hand to his shoulder, blood seeping through his fingers.

“Vashante Kaffas, Strider!” She bellowed, and both dropped at Frodo’s side. “Once I saw where he went I couldn’t move fast enough” She cursed herself in the languages of Thedas, all five of them that she knew. “I can heal him but not here. I will have to disinfect the wound before I can perform any healing magic, otherwise I will just cause more damage.”

Strider picked up the knife lying next to the poor hobbit, who had passed out. Variel brought out her canteen and heated it using a fire rune.

“He was stabbed by a morgul blade.” He said, quickly dropping the dirk as its blade melted.

“There was a shard missing from the blade before it disintegrated.” Variel said, inspecting Frodo’s wound. “I can clean some of it, but I need a sterile environment to pull out the shard. My connection to the Fade is not even close to strained and I can wield all manner of healing spells of any power and magnitude, but nothing I do will stop that shard without its removal. Strider, we must get him to Imladris.”

Strider seeped some old athelas in the water and Variel used it to clean what she could.

“Ir abelas.” She sighed. “I have failed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations  
> ~Elvhenan: The name of the Elvhen civilization. Literally translates to 'The Place of Our People.'  
> ~Thalia: Evanuris and Fen'harel's wife.  
> ~I've'an'virelan: translates to Fade Walker, a rare and extremely skilled mage that can wander and shape the Fade at will.  
> ~Arlathan: Capital of Elvhenan at its height, from the phrase 'ar lath'an' meaning 'this place of love.'  
> ~Andruil: Goddess of the Hunt, her desire of Fen'harel lead to her jealousy of Thalia, who had married the Dread Wolf. That Jealousy fueled her involvement in the initial conflicts between the Evanuirs, until she met Ghilan'nain.  
> ~Anaris: one of the Forgotten Ones that warred with the Evanuris up to when Fen'harel erected the Veil.  
> ~Ju te ir'veraan esha'ala!: You shall not take them!  
> ~Vashante Kaffas: Tevene expletive, literally translates to "You shit on my tongue."  
> ~Ir Abelas: an apology, literally translates to 'I am filled with sorrow for your loss.'  
> Translations from Project Elvhen and https://lingojam.com/ElvenDAI as well as the Dragon Age Wiki

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this convoluted fic, sorry Idont have the prequel up yet but give it time, its coming <3
> 
> If you have any comments or feedback, or reviews, I would love to hear them! <3
> 
> I have Chapter 6 almost done and it should be posted by Friday next week, at least thats my goal. For all the chapters after 6 I cant make any guarantees about posting timeframe cause my focus is the prequel (Raven Herald and the other one since they both are prequels) not to mention my life is hectic as hell right now. :'( but i'm gonna continue to update this fic periodically since I'm loving writing it so far. Thanks all for your patience with me!! <3


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